An Imprudent Proposal
by Violaceae
Summary: An epiphany regarding his feelings for Hermione prompts Harry to take decisive action. Takes place summer after fifth year. Silly one-shot.


**An Imprudent Proposal**

Harry burst out the door and ran to the street, his arm already raised to hail the Knight Bus. In a blinding flash of light the triple-decker bus appeared and in another flash was gone.

Minutes later, a third flash of light deposited the young man on the curb outside the Granger residence in Crawley. Harry paused under the street light to double-check the house number, hoping that he'd remembered it correctly. Seeing the lights were on inside the house, he felt comforted that at least he wouldn't be waking anyone. With one last look around the moonlit street, he walked swiftly up the flagstone path to the front door and knocked.

Harry heard footsteps and two muffled voices inside the house before a tired-looking woman with familiar chestnut curls poked her head out the door to greet him.

"Hello?" she said with a wary eye on the wand in his hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Granger," he said, hastily shoving his wand into the back pocket of his jeans and offering his hand. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm a friend of Hermione's."

"Who is it, dear?" a man's voice called from somewhere within the house.

Mrs. Granger didn't respond, but shot a questioning look behind the door. Then, her question silently answered, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Please come in, Harry," she said, taking Harry's outstretched hand and pulling him inside.

The moment Harry was through the door, it slammed shut behind him and he was nearly bowled over by Hermione's hug.

"Harry, what are you doing here? And so late? You scared us half to death!" Hermione exclaimed, releasing him. "What's happened? Are you alright?"

"Harry, dear, why don't you come in and sit down before Hermione interrogates you?" Mrs. Granger suggested as Mr. Granger emerged from the sitting room.

"Oh, hello," the older man greeted Harry cheerfully. "I wondered what all the excitement was."

"Hello, Mr. Granger," Harry said, shaking his hand. "Sorry to just drop by like this, but I really need to speak with Hermione."

"Harry, what—"

"Um, sorry," Harry interrupted her, "but there's something I need to tell you privately, Hermione."

Hermione took one look at Harry's pleading expression and immediately acquiesced. "We can talk in my room."

"With the door open," Mrs. Granger quickly added.

" _Mum_ —"

Mrs. Granger's eyes narrowed suspiciously on her daughter.

"Mum, I've _told you_ we're not—"

"Er," Harry shifted anxiously as he watched the unfolding showdown between mother and daughter. "I only need to tell her something private and it's not, er, anything like what you might be thinking," he finished weakly, not quite able to meet any of the Grangers' eyes. "Um, I promise when we get to that part—of the conversation, I mean—we'll come back downstairs?" he added, realizing even as he did that such a promise probably wasn't helping matters.

Mrs. Granger blinked back her surprise as she pieced together what the boy seemed to be saying through all his awkwardness and turned to her equally confused daughter. Neither woman knew quite what to say to that.

"Huh," Mr. Granger murmured, breaking the silence.

"We'll be right back!" Hermione declared as she grabbed Harry by the arm and proceeded to drag him up the stairs and into her room, ignoring all her mother's protests. "Now—" she began once her bedroom door was closed and Harry was seated on the end of her bed, "now you had better have a good explanation for all this, Harry."

"Right," Harry replied, wondering how on earth his quiet night on Privet Drive had turned into this. Then he remembered. "First, I need to tell you the prophecy."

"But—"

"I know—it was destroyed. But Dumbledore was the one it was made to, so he told me the whole thing in his office that night."

Hermione's face filled with concern, but she waved for him to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Harry recited the full prophecy from memory:

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…._

"So, either—"

"You have to be the one to kill him," Hermione said quickly. "Oh, Harry—are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, confused by how well his best friend seemed to be taking the contents of the prophecy. "I mean, I wasn't when I first heard it, but now …"

"Now it seems like you always knew it would have to be you," she supplied.

"Yeah!" Harry looked at her in surprise. "How did you—"

"Please, Harry, it was sort of obvious," Hermione replied as she took a seat beside him on her bed. "Are you really alright, though?"

"I think so," Harry answered, searching her face for any sign of her own feelings. "Are _you_ OK?"

"I can't pretend I'm not scared for you, but yes, I'll be OK if you will," Hermione said, placing her hand over his on the bed. "I knew it had to be something like this after Malfoy told us the prophecy was the reason Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby. And like I said, it was kind of obvious it would have to be you, since somehow it always seems to come down to you and him."

"I guess at least now we know why," Harry nodded as they lapsed into silence.

As he waited for Hermione to say something, Harry took the opportunity to look around her bedroom. He felt comforted that it looked so much like he might have guessed: very tidy, nicely organized, and with several tall bookcases. He noticed her completed summer homework assignments stacked neatly beside her desk and a framed picture of himself grinning back at him from the desktop.

"Harry," Hermione said, finally breaking the silence, "why did you tell me this now? I mean, you rush over here at eleven o'clock to tell me this—why now? Why tonight? Why not wait until tomorrow morning at least?"

"Oh …" Harry was suddenly nervous again. "Well, I was thinking and I realized something that, well—we should go back downstairs. I did promise your mum, after all."

Hermione grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

"Wait one minute, Harry! You can't just come barging into my house, tell me the prophecy and then leave without explaining what's going on. Now tell me what this is all about!"

"I will," he replied, pulling her from the bed. "Once we're downstairs."

Hermione huffed. "Fine. But this had better be good," she warned as they descended the stairs.

Harry didn't answer, but desperately hoped to himself that it would be.

As the teenagers entered the sitting room, Mrs. Granger's eyes narrowed again at the sight of Harry leading Hermione by the hand. Before she could comment, however, Harry spoke.

"Sorry again about coming here at such a late hour and everything, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. And thanks for, um, trusting me to speak to Hermione privately."

Mr. Granger coughed lightly from his seat across the room. "Not a problem, Harry, but I think we'd all like an explanation of what's going on."

"Right," Harry agreed. He released Hermione's hand and turned to face her. Then he took a deep breath as though gathering all his courage before dropping to one knee. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

" _What?_ "

"Is he serious?" Mr. Granger whispered loudly to Mrs. Granger, whose mouth hung open in shock.

"Harry, are you serious?" Hermione said quietly. "If this is a joke, it's not funny."

"I'm completely serious, Hermione," Harry assured her, returning to his feet. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since Sirius died and—and I realized that if I don't do something someone else will and I just couldn't…. The thought of you being married to some other guy was so horrible and I know I could never…. What I'm trying to say is that I love you and could never imagine being closer to anyone else and could never stand the thought of you being closer to someone else."

"But, you've never said anything like this!" Hermione cried, her mind reeling. "How could you suddenly love me?"

"I—I think I have for years. That's what I realized," Harry tried to explain. "For some reason I had this stupid idea—and don't ask me why because I don't understand, myself—but I had this idea that since you were my friend I wasn't allowed to think of you this way. But today I finally realized that if I didn't someone else would and I would _lose_ you."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"Um," Mr. Granger coughed again. "Shouldn't you try dating first?"

Everyone turned to stare at the man who was leaning back in his armchair, an empty wineglass in his hand.

"Just a thought," he added, a tad befuddled that the suggestion even needed to be made.

"I suppose I did skip a few steps," Harry admitted, turning back to give Hermione a sheepish grin.

"You are serious, then?" Mrs. Granger asked, her voice heavy with skepticism.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Harry, can we talk in private?" Hermione asked with a sharp look at her parents.

"Oh no," Mrs. Granger said, eyeing her daughter with suspicion, again. "You're not taking him to you room now, young lady!"

" _Mum!_ "

"Why don't we go into the kitchen, dear, and they can talk here," Mr. Granger suggested, rising from his seat. "Come, we'll both have another glass of wine," he added with a wink at Hermione. Before his wife could argue, he had his arm around her and was already sweeping her out of the room.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione demanded the moment her parents had left.

"Um, proposing?"

Harry quailed under Hermione's glare.

"Why?" she asked, still glaring at him.

"For all the reasons I said?" Harry answered, completely baffled by Hermione's lack of understanding. "Because I finally realized I love you," he tried again to explain.

"Why _now_ , though?" Hermione pressed him, still staring into his eyes. "You come over here at eleven o'clock, tell me the prophecy, and then ask me to marry you—what am I supposed to think?"

Harry collapsed onto the sofa, his heart sinking at her reaction.

"Harry, did you propose to me because you think you're going to die?" Hermione asked.

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I admit it was Sirius's death and the prophecy that got me thinking so much about the future, but it was all reasons I told you before that made me propose. I love you and I want to be with you forever."

"So you don't think you're going to die?" Hermione clarified. "This isn't some desperate scheme you dreamed up since you don't expect to live to graduation?"

"Hermione, we both know there's a chance he might win and that I could die. But if I truly believed it was hopeless, I would never have asked you. This isn't really about that at all. It's just—now that I've acknowledged how I feel about you, I had to ask…. But I wasn't thinking we'd actually get married until after the war."

"Why did you tell me the prophecy first, then?"

"It didn't seem fair to spring it on you afterwards," Harry shrugged. "I would have told you anyway, but I couldn't ask until you knew what you'd be getting yourself into."

Hermione paced the length of the sofa once, shaking her head. "Oh, Harry," she whispered in exasperation. Then she sat down next to him on the sofa and took his hand in hers. "I love you, too, Harry," she finally admitted. "I had all but given up on you ever feeling that way about me, though."

"See, I knew time was of the essence," Harry grinned as he massaged her ring finger with his thumb. "I suppose I could have waited until I had a ring to give you, at least," he said, gazing thoughtfully at her hand.

"No, my dad's right," Hermione gently admonished him. "You should have asked me to be your girlfriend first."

Harry nodded. "But I didn't."

"No, of course you didn't," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"Wait—" Harry had a sudden thought. "Dobby!" he called.

With a loud crack the oddly-dressed house elf appeared on the coffee table in front of them.

"Master Harry called Dobby?"

" _Master?_ " Hermione yelped indignantly.

"Don't worry, I'm paying him," Harry quickly assured her. "I realized that with Dobby's help I could avoid the Dursleys entirely, so the first day back I called him and offered him a job."

"Master Harry is paying Dobby one Galleon a week," Dobby interjected happily. "But Dobby is noticing more gold in his vault than Master Harry is paying," he added with an accusing look at Harry.

"You have your own vault?" Hermione asked Dobby in surprise.

"Master Harry got Dobby his vault," Dobby nodded proudly. "But Dobby is finding Master Harry put too much gold in it." He glared at Harry again.

"It was just a gift, Dobby," Harry said, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "A few Galleons for a friend."

"Dobby is counting two hundred Galleons."

" _Two hundred?_ " Hermione mouthed at Harry, who shrugged.

"Dobby—" Harry decided it was time to change the subject. "Would you please retrieve the Potter betrothal ring from my family vault?"

Dobby's eyes somehow managed to widen much more than usual as he looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. "Dobby will do so," he declared before disappearing with a second loud crack.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but was preempted by her parents barging back into the room.

"What was that noise?"

"We thought it was a car backfiring, but then we heard it again," Mr. Granger said, trailing behind his wife with two glasses of wine in his hands.

"That was Harry's house elf. He left already."

"Harry owns a _slave?_ " Mrs. Granger growled with the same indignation her daughter displayed a moment before.

"Don't worry, he pays Dobby," Hermione said quickly. "Actually, Dobby must be the wealthiest elf in Britain."

"Oh," Mrs. Granger said, quite taken aback. "I suppose that's fine then."

"What was this Dobby fellow doing here, though?" Mr. Granger asked as he handed his wife her glass of wine.

Hermione told Harry with a glance that he would have to field that question himself. Before he could answer, however, there was another loud crack as a second house elf appeared in the center of the room.

"Please excuse Winky," she said, bowing to each of the Grangers and Harry. "But Dobby is telling Winky that his Master has a family now. And Winky is wondering—" she shuffled her feet nervously. "Winky needs a family," she murmured, twisting the hem of her tea towel in her fists.

"But I thought you liked Hogwarts, now?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Winky does, Miss, but Winky is wanting a proper family. Dobby says his Master Harry Potter is marrying and Winky hoped she could be Mistress's elf."

"You want to be my elf?"

Winky nodded shyly.

"I thought you didn't like me, though?" Hermione said, remembering how she struggled to make inroads with any of the Hogwarts elves.

"If you is to be Harry Potter's wife, Winky is thinking you cannot be all bad," the elf admitted with a little shrug. "But Winky is not taking pay," she added seriously.

Hermione rubbed her temples and looked from Winky's expectant expression, to Harry's apparent amusement at the elf's request, to her father's confusion and her mother's exasperation. Just as she was asking herself if the night could get any stranger, there was a fourth crack announcing Dobby's return.

"Dobby has Master Harry's ring," Dobby squeaked excitedly as he pressed a small box into Harry's hand.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said.

Dobby nodded and went to stand next to Winky. "Is Master and Mistress hiring Winky?" he whispered in her ear.

"Winky is a proper house elf and is not getting hired for pay!" Winky hissed.

"But Mistress says—"

"Winky will do as Mistress asks her, but Winky is not being paid for it," Winky said vehemently.

"What if Mistress asks you to accept payment?" Mr. Granger couldn't help himself from asking.

"Winky will accept gold if Mistress orders it, but it is not being payment," Winky insisted.

"Works for me," Mr. Granger smiled before finishing his wine.

"Dad, Mum, Winky, Dobby—could you give Harry and I a moment alone?" Hermione said, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Hermione Jane …" Mrs. Granger sighed.

Before Hermione could do anything more than blush at her mother's repeated insinuations, however, the doorbell rang.

"Winky will answer it!" Winky said, hurrying to the door before anyone could stop her.

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed it wasn't a Muggle at the door. A second later, Winky returned with their guest.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling warmly at his hosts. "Harry, Hermione," he added with a delighted twinkle in his eyes. "And Dobby and Winky, too," he bowed his head to the tiny elves.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Mr. Granger shook his hand. "What can I do for you?"

"First let me apologize for calling unexpectedly at such an hour," Professor Dumbledore answered smoothly. "I had heard some news, however, from one of the house elves at Hogwarts and thought I must verify it—and offer my congratulations, of course," he added, smiling widely at Harry and Hermione.

"The house elves?" Harry looked questioningly to Dobby and Winky.

"That is Dobby's fault, Master Harry," Dobby said, his ears drooping.

"Dobby is telling Winky and the whole kitchen is hearing of Master's betrothal," Winky explained.

" _Betrothal?_ " Mrs. Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Engagement, surely," Mr. Granger corrected.

"Harry asked Dobby to get the Potter betrothal ring from his family vault," Hermione said.

"It's just an engagement ring, really," Harry hurried to explain. "It doesn't imply any sort of contract or anything. It's just a family heirloom that's been used since betrothals were common."

"Well, let's see this heirloom," Mr. Granger said, setting his empty wineglass on the coffee table.

"I haven't given it to Hermione, yet," Harry replied, showing them the closed box in his hand.

"Harry—"

"I know, I know," Harry sighed. "I screwed everything up. It was stupid and impulsive to come here tonight and I never should have proposed without dating you first."

Hermione and Mrs. Granger made identical sounds of agreement as the men watched in fascination.

"But since I already asked, I can't take it back, and I want to do it right," Harry continued. He held out the box in his hand before dropping to one knee again. "Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?" he asked, opening the box to reveal a beautiful, goblin-made engagement ring.

But no sooner had Harry revealed the Potter betrothal ring than another visitor announced himself.

"Albus!" the man barked from outside the sitting room window.

A moment later, Winky escorted Mad-Eye Moody into the room. The paranoid Auror's magical eye spun in all directions, but his normal eye remained fixed on the spot where Harry still knelt before Hermione. "Albus, Headquarters is in an uproar! Or the Weasleys are, anyway," he amended. "Something about these two getting married," he said, indicating Harry and Hermione with his stubby thumb.

"Did the house elves tell you, too?" Mr. Granger asked curiously.

"House elves?" Moody cried. "No, Minerva came through the Floo. Said she heard it from a portrait outside her office. She assumed Potter and his girl were at Headquarters, if they were together. Wanted to congratulate them," he added with a friendly nod to Harry and Hermione.

"What do you mean the Weasleys are in an uproar?" Hermione asked.

"The girl's bawling her eyes out and the other kid's throwing a jealous fit, stomping all over the house, and Molly's—well, you know Molly," Moody explained before taking a long drink from his flask. "Can I offer you any?" he added, shaking the flask at Professor Dumbledore and each of the elder Grangers.

"I wouldn't mind some." Mr. Granger held out his wineglass for Moody to pour a drink.

"Albus?" Moody offered again.

"Thank you, Alastor, but no," Dumbledore politely declined.

"So, it's true, then?" Moody growled. "The kids are getting married?"

No one answered.

"Eh?" Moody prodded.

Slowly, everyone turned to look at Hermione, who sighed and closed her eyes.

"Yes, it's true," she said.


End file.
